


Experto crede

by linguamortua



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: F/M, Flashbacks, Hux is terribly embarrassed, M/M, Phasma is all of us, Puns & Word Play, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-15
Updated: 2016-01-15
Packaged: 2018-05-14 03:54:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5728678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/linguamortua/pseuds/linguamortua
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>They stood in silence for a minute and then Phasma made a small gesture to the ring below and spoke. ‘Y’know,’ she said, casually breaking the convention that the most senior officer present was to initiate conversation, ‘I could just eat that boy up.’</i>
</p>
<p>Or: Hux just wants to enjoy a quiet drink in the officers' lounge. He does <i>not</i> want Phasma to join him, particularly not if she's going to discuss Kylo Ren's physical charms.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Experto crede

Hux stood by the balcony railing with studied casualness, sipping his drink and watching the sparring ring below. Here, a select group of fighters could practice their combat skills while the officers watched from above. This was no place for the rank and file; these were the best, permitted to spar in this private arena as an appropriately warlike form of entertainment for the officers above. The transparisteel that enclosed this little balcony was one-way, so that those below could not observe their betters. Hux had been spectating for a few minutes, slowly drinking a mildly alcoholic beverage. A short break in the officer’s mess after lunch was a perfectly acceptable way for a ship’s commander to pass a few restorative minutes when no other duties called. What could be more fitting than watching some of the best hand-to-hand combat skills that the First Order had to offer? 

At present, Kylo Ren was in the arena, sparring with four men at once. He was spinning and parrying with two short staves. His footwork was light and quick and he anticipated every blow the men made, every lunge and feint and thrust. His mask and robes were abandoned and he was barefoot. He wore a dark grey singlet and a black leather guard on each forearm. Hux could think of few finer displays of fighting skill. That was what he told himself as he drank; he was appreciating the fine and ancient art of  _ eskrima _ . If a little aesthetic appreciation of masculine beauty crept in there, too - well, he was a worldly man with a classical education and it was hardly a  _ crime _ to recognise physical perfection.

He was snapped out of his reverie by Phasma coming to join him on the balcony. She smiled benevolently down at Kylo and his opponents for a moment, leaning her forearms on the railing with a bottle hanging between two fingers. Unlike Hux, Phasma had time during a week where she was truly off-duty, and so this afternoon she was wearing not her imposing silver armour, but her trim black officer’s pants and high-necked shirt. Attired thus, she was just about formal enough to be allowed into the lounge, although Hux noted with disapproval that her shoes were not regulation boots, but rather soft-soled things more suited to the gymnasium. He certainly wasn’t going to mention it, though; he had rather lost his physical edge lately, and Phasma’s shoulder muscles stood out to excellent effect as she lounged forward on her elbows.

The first time that Phasma had pulled off her helmet and spoken, interacted with her fellow officers, Hux had been surprised by her; by her long eyelashes, her generous grin, her easy camaraderie. She had worked her way up through the ranks with wit and brawn and integrity. Hux’s father would have been disgusted, but Hux himself rather admired her, if her lack of social graces sometimes made him cringe.

They stood in silence for a minute and then Phasma made a small gesture to the ring below and spoke. ‘Y’know,’ she said, casually breaking the convention that the most senior officer present was to initiate conversation, ‘I could just eat that boy up.’ She looked over at Hux, her grey eyes creasing with pleasure. ‘Saw him take down three of my best ‘troopers with nothing but his hands and feet. Almost broke a man’s neck with his thighs. Excellent work.’ She took a long pull at her drink and watched Kylo flip a man over his shoulder and onto the floor with crushing strength.

‘Yes - he’s very skilled,’ said Hux stiffly, trying strenuously not to imagine what Kylo’s pale thighs would look like - or feel like - wrapped around someone’s neck.

‘Skilled,’ mused Phasma. ‘He’s that. So uptight though.’ Kylo executed a particularly graceful move, dropping low to avoid a strike from behind while disarming a second man; Phasma whistled through her teeth in a manner very unbecoming to an officer. ‘I tell my young ‘uns, you work hard, you play hard. A balanced life, that’s what you need.’

‘Are you suggesting that Lord Ren should… play hard?’ Hux asked. Suddenly his head was full of the memory of Kylo the weekend last, pressing his long forearms to the wall of Hux’s bunk and crying out into Hux’s pillow, over and over again. Just under the high neck of Hux’s shirt, he felt a damnable warmth beginning to creep upwards.

‘Wouldn’t hurt him,’ said Phasma knowingly - and she  _ would _ know, being a superb commanding officer and a rigorous instructor. ‘I don’t hold with all this nonsense about solitude and chastity and denial. It’s not healthy.’ She waved a dismissive hand as if throwing the entire founding philosophy of the Knights of Ren into the trash compactor. Hux’s intrusive thoughts about Kylo ebbed for a few seconds, briefly replaced by a sordid sort of fascination about Phasma’s own private habits. He clenched his jaw. He was experiencing a shocking lack of mental discipline recently. Not since his teenage years had his mind been so drawn to - to  _ intercourse _ , he firmly told himself. He would not think the word. He wouldn’t. ‘Sex,’ said Phasma, immediately, ‘that would work. Or a few pints of ale with the rest of us on an off-duty day. Team sports, maybe. You know. Normal pastimes.’

‘I defer to your expertise in the matter,’ Hux said, with a short, polite bow. He brought his glass to his face to hide his expression. The glass was very cold on his face. For the moment, his blush appeared to be under control. At present, vanity over his pale and aristocratic skin had been superseded by frustration at how easily he coloured in the grip of emotion.

‘I appreciate that,’ said Phasma. ‘I’ve seen this before. You see it with the young ‘uns, sometimes. All fervour, all the time. They need to learn to loosen up.’

Kylo, Hux knew, had absolutely no problem loosening up. He was a master of it, in fact. Kylo, Knight of Ren, could relax the muscles of his throat to a degree that should not be medically possible, a fact which Hux fervently wished he didn’t know, because the image was now plastered in spectacularly high definition across the inside of his eyeballs.

‘Do they?’ he said, weakly. 

‘Trust me,’ said Phasma, unshakeably confident. A droplet of condensation ran from her ale bottle, over her fingers and onto the floor. Hux was uncomfortably reminded that he was sweating down his back under his uniform jacket. ‘Like I said,’ continued Phasma, inexorably pressing the conversation into yet more awkward territory, ‘I’d do it myself, if it wouldn’t cause talk.’ She smirked. ‘Might be tempted to do it anyway.’ Her voice was low and amused.

‘You assume he’d be amenable to a woman?’ Hux asked - but for the love of all things good and pure,  _ why  _ he asked it he couldn’t tell. He hoped it sounded like idle chatter. That not an ounce of jealousy or prurience showed through in his voice.

‘You assume he’s not?’ Phasma shot back. She held his gaze.

‘One never knows, with these Force-trained types,’ said Hux, in an excellent diplomatic recovery. His drink was running low, and he had to stifle the urge to eagerly gulp it down as an excuse to leave. 

This was hell, he thought. Hell was real, and it was right here on the  _ Finalizer _ . He shifted his position and tried to subtly survey the room out the corner of his eye. It was a little early for most of the officers to be drinking and recreating. A handful of men and women stood in groups of two or three. He outranked them all, of course, and so he would have to be the one to make overtures. None of them could approach him now without breaking the unspoken social rules. Even if someone had been desperate enough to disturb his earlier solitude to speak with him, they would now quite naturally assume that a conversation between himself and Phasma was not to be interrupted.

Technically, he was perfectly within his rights to cut Phasma off and leave. That would be a tactical error, though; she was well-liked, well-respected and far smarter than her rough soldier’s manners would suggest. To be seen desperately escaping from this conversation - well, politics were politics and the assumption would be that he—

_ ‘Don’t stop,’ Kylo whimpered, his head thrown back against Hux’s shoulder as he rode him. Hux’s legs were spread wide to take Kylo’s weight, and his spacious chair creaked with the force of their fucking. A savage bite to the back of Kylo’s neck, Hux’s fingernails over his chest; Kylo’s sweaty hands tangling in Hux’s hair in a way that made his shoulder muscles stand out. The way the dim light of the room threw a shadow over Kylo’s sharp collarbones. The smell of him, warm and human. The taste of brandy on their mouths; Kylo hot and tight around Hux’s cock.  _

In the arena, Kylo threw the last of his opponents to the floor with a catlike twist and let out a yell that Hux could not hear. His clothing was plastered to his back with sweat and he stood with his feet planted wide and a fierce, victorious smile on his face. He looked feral, glorious. Next to Hux, Phasma radiated appreciation.

‘You just don’t see that every day,’ she said, and then sighed wistfully. ‘Lovely boy. And here’s me, supposed to set a good example.’

‘Which you do admirably,’ said Hux with the automatic courtesy that had been instilled in him from birth. He hurriedly tossed back the last mouthful of his drink, fully prepared to make his escape before he embarrassed himself. He held the glass up so that Phasma could see, and very obviously adjusted his jacket.

‘Well,’ said Phasma, ‘it’s been pleasant. I’ll let you get back to work.’ Hux tried not to visibly sigh with relief. He turned to leave, and Phasma raised a hand to halt him in his tracks. ‘You might have a word with him about all this. He might not listen to me, but I’m fairly sure he’d take it from you.’

In this, as in so many things, Phasma was entirely correct.


End file.
